


In the Spirit of Competition

by RogueBelle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Breathplay, Death Eaters, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Hate Sex, Pre-Canon, Rating: NC17, Sexual Content, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueBelle/pseuds/RogueBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bellatrix's brazen attitude leads to a wager over her virtue... everyone wins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Spirit of Competition

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the hpde_smutathon on Livejournal.

_I._  
The air hung heavy with her invectives, and in the awed silence that followed, every clack of her heels against the tiled floor echoed far above the chandeliers. In her wake, her sister followed, with a demure and almost apologetic susurrus of skirts, but loyal to a fault, never lingering when Bellatrix had found her exit line.  
  
The doors slammed behind the departing Black sisters, and for three and a half beats after, the silence continued to weigh down. Then, an eruption of gossip, scandalized exclamations -- all in the most discreet of whispers, of course.  
  
Rodolphus waited until most of the eyes had turned away from him to rub his stinging cheek with the back of his hand.  
  
  
_II._  
"You really shouldn't have done that, Bella," Narcissa admonished quietly, sitting primly on the edge of Bellatrix's bed, slippered feet skimming the floor. With a careless laugh, Bellatrix shook the pins out of her hair. "You know how his temper can get."  
  
"Darling Cissy," Bellatrix drawled, shamelessly stripping out of her gown and letting the azure fabric pool on the floor, "has it ever occurred to you that I might _enjoy_ giving Rodolphus Lestrange a reason to vent his furies?" She reached for her wand and touched it behind her back, peeling open her seamless corset, and tossing that aside as well.  
  
Narcissa modestly averted her eyes from her sister's unblushing nudity. "That's rather what I'm afraid of," she murmured. "Besides, Bella, it isn't ladylike in the least."  
  
Bella snorted softly. "You might have noticed, darling, neither am I." She glanced pointedly at the wardrobe. Narcissa didn't have to follow her gaze; she knew that behind the paneled oak was a collection of dueling uniforms, hooded robes, and a chilling, bony mask. "And any man who can't keep up clearly isn't worthy of me, anyway." She whipped a dressing robe off of her bedpost and shrugged it over her shoulders.  
  
"Suppose you don't ever find one who can," Narcissa challenged, in her serene way. "You have to marry sooner or later, Bella, and if you insult each and every one of your suitors—"  
  
"Cissy, Cissy," Bella cooed, cupping her sister's hand in her cheeks. "You're a dear to worry for me, but you really needn't bother."  
  
  
_III._  
Rodolphus should have known better than to have expected excitement over the scene to have dulled in only two days. Stony-faced, he refused to acknowledge the _sotto voce_ comments that flurried around him as he and Rabastan walked through the halls of the Nightshade, Knockturn Alley's prestigious gentleman's club. Card games paused, liquor was halted mid-pour, books were folded shut as the Lestrange brothers wound their way towards a pair of leather armchairs against the back wall.  
  
"Just pretend it didn't happen," Rabastan said in a low voice, as Rodolphus poured them each a glass of Firewhiskey on the rocks.  
  
"That's why I'm trying to do," Rodolphus answered.  
  
"Yes," drawled a familiar voice from nearby, "it does speak to your credit that you're willing to show your face so soon after such embarrassment." Though knowing he would regret it, Rodolphus turned around, to see Lucius Malfoy, snapping off black gloves, thin lips pulled into a superior curl. "I know if some tart had slapped me around like I was no better than her house-elf, I should hardly have the nerve to show myself in society so soon. Still." His smile grew nastier. "Such courage. Admirable."  
  
Behind him, Rabastan fidgeted nervously. Rodolphus simply lifted his chin, in defiance of the audience Lucius's words had drawn: Avery, Yaxley, Dolohov, the usual cronies. "I'm hardly the first gentleman to have to endure a public spat," he said, voice deliberately even. "In fact, I should think I'm hardly the first here to have endured such from Miss Black." His dark eyes flickered in succession to two other men in the room, both of whom had received even worse set-downs from Bella Black in the past.  
  
"A woman like _that_ ," Lucius said, "needs to be reminded of her place. And often."  
  
Feeling his jaw set, Rodolphus tried not to sound as defensive as he felt. "The day you know what to do with a woman of so considerable spirit as Miss Black is the day you'll catch me frolicking through Hogsmeade in a pink pinafore."  
  
Lucius was unmoved, but Avery laughed. "Rodolphus, are you really suggesting _you_ could be the one to bring Miss Black to heel?"  
  
Rodolphus smiled enigmatically. "I mean precisely what I say. I know how to handle a woman of spirit."  
  
Yaxley snorted. "The way you handled her at the fête two days ago?"  
  
"No, no," Lucius said, assuming the aura of command Rodolphus found so very irritating. "Lestrange may be on to something." He flicked a lock of too-silken platinum hair over his shoulder, and Rodolphus could barely restrain rolling his eyes. Something about Malfoy had always edged too close to effeminate for his comfort. "So far Bella Black has rebuffed every advance made on her. But she has to yield sooner or later." His tone and glance were equally meaningful, and equally lascivious.  
  
"What exactly are you proposing?" Rodolphus commented.  
  
The famous Malfoy sneer crawled over Lucius's face. "A hundred Galleons to the man who claims her maidenhead," he proposed. "A prize for the first to get past the thorns."  
  
Rabastan looked warily between Malfoy's knowing smirk and his brother's studiedly unconcerned expression. The Lestrange family's money troubles were the worst-kept secret of the wizarding aristocracy. Rodolphus didn't _have_ the hundred Galleons to wager, and everyone in the room knew it.  
  
He rose from his chair slowly and strode over to Lucius. "As distasteful as I find it to wager over a lady's affections—"  
  
"Isn't precisely her _affections_ you're interested in," Yaxley muttered from somewhere behind him.  
  
"—I'll accept."  
  
Malfoy's icy eyes were aglow with seedy pleasure as he shook Rodolphus's hand. "I'll be thrilled to add my winnings to the family coffers," he said, "though I shall feel a bit guilty over the heirlooms I'm sure you'll have to sell to scrounge up the funds."  
  
Rodolphus remained, somehow, unperturbed. "You're an exceedingly confident man, Lucius."  
  
"It comes naturally when one always wins."  
  
  
_IV._  
"Have you taken complete leave of your senses?" Rabastan hissed, later that night, once the Lestrange boys had returned home. "A hundred Galleons, Rodolphus? A _hundred_? Rodolphus, you don't _have_ \--"  
  
"No," Rodolphus said, reclining in an armchair. "But I sure could use them."  
  
  
_V._  
Bellatrix Black was no ordinary female. Simple observation made that perfectly clear to all. The methods of wooing normal women had never applied to her. She scorned flowers for their frailty, found fault with any sweets gifted upon her, and was excruciatingly precise in her jewelry preferences. Her favourite token of affection was a man's limping attempts at poetry, but that was only for the amusement value they provided her.  
  
Lucius Malfoy had learned these lessons the same way most men had.  
  
Rodolphus Lestrange had never bothered.  
  
  
_VI._  
"Aurors."  
  
The word was barely above a whisper, but the sound of urgency in Bellatrix's husky voice sent a thrill straight to Rodolphus's loins, as surely as though it had been intended as a proposition. Seizing her by her narrow waist, Rodolphus dragged her into the nook between the two buildings. The space was barely big enough for the both of them, though Rodolphus could find precious little fault with the arrangement, when it forced Bella's impressive bosom to rise against his chest with every breath she drew.  
  
Footsteps echoed from further down the alley. Bella glanced around, judging the shadows that hung over them, hoping the darkness would be ensconcing enough to conceal their presence. Suddenly she sucked in a breath, feeling Rodolphus's fingers popping open the fastenings at the front of the practical breeches she wore for any "political excursions" -- particularly those with a chance that she would be required to call upon her considerable dueling talents.  
  
"What... are... you... doing?" she breathed, voice as low as possible.  
  
Rodolphus's lips were against her ear, but he didn't speak as his fingers explored between her legs; she could feel him grin when he found her slit already wet.  
  
She could barely see him in the darkness, and held herself as still as possible, not wanting to make any noise that would give them away. It was torturous, reining in her typical expressive nature, but somehow the pressure, the excruciating strain of it only made the pleasure all the sweeter. Rodolphus's fingers were long, and skillful, and she would have been mewling, would have been moaning, would have been begging for release, had not all her strength of will been focused on disallowing herself even to breathe loudly.  
  
When Rodolphus traced a fingertip around her clit, Bellatrix wound her arms about his neck to keep her balance. Rodolphus raised his other hand and pressed it to her mouth, and when another adroit twist of his fingers would have undone her, she bit hard at the base of his thumb to keep from screaming.  
  
Rodolphus had gone uncomfortably hard, worse when she drew his thumb into her mouth and began sucking on it, jolting his nerves. There was no way, though, no way to satiate his desires, not in this cramped alcove with hunting Aurors probably only yards down the street.  
  
No reason, though, he couldn't give her something to remember, something to want more of.  
  
Two fingers drove deep inside her cunt, while his thumb pressed at and circled her clit, their tandem rhythm growing faster, feverish. She came with utter silence, muscles in paroxysm, sagging against the wall as her knees buckled.  
  
The shouts of the Aurors still rang out in the adjacent alleyways, and Bellatrix smothered her laboured breathing in Rodolphus's shoulder. Only when the last reverberating sounds had faded away into the night mists did she drag up her head. Rodolphus smoothed a lock of hair back into her disheveled braid. "Pity we don't have time for aught else," he remarked coolly, as she refastened her breeches.  
  
Bellatrix laughed. "Pity," she echoed, sliding out of the cranny and back into the street. "But we do have so much to be getting on with."  
  
The hazy glow from the streetlights illuminated the pink flush still hot on her cheeks. Rodolphus, composing himself, watched from the alcove, gazing in admiration at her form, silhouetted against the artificial titian glow. "Another time," he said, eyes lingering on the swell of her breasts, straining against her neatly-cut jacket, and tracing over the lush invitation of her hips, tantalizingly provocative beneath the specially tailored breeches she so proudly wore.  
  
She flipped her braid over her shoulder, grinning. "Another time?" she asked, turning and striding down the alley. "What makes you think you'll be so lucky?"  
  
  
_VII._  
When the door to her bedroom slammed in the middle of the night, it took a mere second for Bellatrix, jolting awake, to find her wand and have it pointed at the intruder. "What in the name of glory?" she snapped, upon recognizing the infiltrator. She slid out of bed, affording Lucius an all-too-tempting glimpse at her long, well-toned legs beneath her short, silken nightgown. "You have three seconds to give me a reason not to hex you into oblivion, Malfoy."  
  
He smiled like a knife-blade in the moonlight. "I wanted to see you."  
  
"Not good enough." Bellatrix slashed her wand left-right, sending a blast of pale blue light at Malfoy; she hadn't realised his wand was out, too, perfectly ready to summon a Shield Charm. The spell rebounded almost directly at her, and Bella had to duck and dart to the side to avoid getting hit with her own curse. In her split-second of distraction, Lucius was able to disarm her, and with another flick of his wand, knock her to the ground.  
  
A fighter by nature, Bellatrix tried to scramble back to her feet, full-ready to tear at Lucius with her fingernails if necessary, but before she could rise, Lucius cast _Incarcerous_ at each of her wrists, binding them solidly to the floor.  
  
"Now, Bella," he said, striding towards her. "That wasn't a very ladylike greeting."  
  
"And it isn't very gentlemanly," Bellatrix snarled in acerbic reply, "to invite yourself over to a lady's bedroom in the middle of the night."  
  
"Bella, Bella, my darling little Black Rose." Lucius trailed his wand across the nape of her neck as he circled her, a searing line following in its wake. Bellatrix hissed softly, but set her jaw, refusing to cry out. "You'd be wasted on Lestrange."  
  
Curling her lips into a snarl, Bella shot back, "You think I'll be less wasted on _you_? At least Lestrange knows how t—"  
  
A cracking backhand cut her off. Recovering, Bellatrix ran her tongue over her lip, tasting blood, feeling the hot blossom of pain spreading across her cheek. "I have no patience for your insolence, Bella."  
  
"You might want to consider leaving, then."  
  
Another slap, one that whiplashed her neck. One of Lucius's hands sank into her tangle of upswept hair, yanking her head back. "I will not be mocked by you, woman," he growled. "You Blacks, you little bitch, thinking yourselves so superior. But you forget yourself. I'll teach you to show respect to your betters."  
  
"You want my respect?" Bellatrix barked in return, fire-eyed. " _Earn it_."  
  
Releasing the spell binding her wrists to the floor, Lucius pulled hard on her hair, dragging her upwards, forcing her to scramble to her feet. "You've needed breaking for as long as I've known you."  
  
Her smile was no less infuriating for all that it was bloodied. "I was six when we met, Lucius. That's really quite pervy of you."  
  
With a low grunt, Lucius spun her around and shoved her against the nearest wall, pinning her body with his own. He forced her thighs apart, roughly insinuating his hand between them, probing none-too-gently. "You have led a great many men on a merry chase," he hissed, pinching at her clit. "It's far past time someone taught you a lesson in turn."  
  
Bellatrix gritted her teeth, desperately thinking of a way to fight her way out of the humiliating treatment, but felt her body capitulating in spite of itself, heat and wetness starting to build under Lucius's indelicate ministrations. And it certainly didn't take him long to notice. Laughing cruelly, Lucius picked Bellatrix up and tossed her onto the bed, using the binding charm again to pinion her arms to the headboard. He divested himself of his robes, then grabbed her knees and spread her legs apart.  
  
"All these protestations of holding yourself aloof," he said, positioning himself at her entrance, "when you've just been begging for it all along."  
  
Her black eyes glittered in faint light. "You don't know anything, Malfoy," she challenged.  
  
"I know enough," he countered, and with one strong push, thrust himself inside her.  
  
Then Lucius stopped, startled at the lack of resistance, at the utter lack of a barrier to breach. "You—" he started, staring aghast down at her. "You weren't a-- You aren't-- You little _slut_." He cracked her hard across the face, lashing out with all the anger of his violated pride.  
  
Bella laughed, maddeningly, incensingly, and didn't stop even when Lucius hit her again. "You stupid ass," she said, black eyes twinkling with malicious delight, "you didn't really think—"  
  
"Who?" he demanded, and when she laughed again, he gave one of her nipples a vicious twist. "Tell me who, you little whore!"  
  
Bella's lips twisted into a proud smirk, her insolence punctuated by the drying blood at one corner of her mouth. "Rodolphus," she answered. "More than a year ago."  
  
The ice in Lucius's eyes turned piercingly sharp. "You deceived me," he hissed. "The both of you."  
  
"You made an assumption," Bellatrix snapped. "It's neither my fault nor his that you made a foolish one."  
  
With a low, vicious growl, Lucius hooked his arms under Bellatrix's legs and began driving violently into her, pounding again and again. Bella yanked at her bindings in protest, muttering invectives under her breath. "You'll regret this, Lucius," she snarled. "Mark me well, I will give you cause to regret treating me like this."  
  
His hands slid up to her neck, thumbs pressing against her windpipe. "I don't recall asking you to speak." Bellatrix thrashed more urgently, bucking, kicking, trying to win freedom, trying to dislodge Lucius, but she felt her chest weakening, her vision dimming with black spots at the edges, felt the strength going out of her. A lesser woman, a weaker woman might have cried. Bellatrix, gasping for air, merely got angrier, merely redoubled her resolve to cause Malfoy serious harm.  
  
The more of a struggle it became to breathe, the more she felt her muscles tightening, a swirl of heat building as Lucius drove into her. In the second before oblivion claimed her, she shook with the force of climax, and cursed herself for the weakness.  
  
After a few more thrusts, Lucius spilled himself inside of her, then untied her bonds and left her, unconscious, on the bed.  
  
  
_VIII._  
"Incidentally," Rodolphus drawled, as Lucius dropped the velvet bag, bulging with Galleons, onto the lacquered surface of the table, "I wouldn't have conceded the loss anyway, if you'd had to force her. As I said--" Allowing himself only a small victory grin, Rodolphus picked up the satchel and tested the weight of it. "I know how to handle a woman of spirit."

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work, please check out [my blog](http://cassmorriswrites.com)! I also write original fiction, and my debut novel will be out January 2018.


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